


Prisoners of today

by Ischa



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John and Selina are hooking up during the occupation. </p>
<p>
  <i>The only thing they are doing is picking up the pieces and rebuilding. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prisoners of today

**Author's Note:**

> based on this prompt: http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/1025.html?thread=247041#t247041  
> beta: the great mockingj91  
> title: Billy Talent

**~one~**  
John doesn't know why she does it. He doesn't really know why he does it either. And he doesn't ask. There's no time for asking personal questions like these anyway.  
Maybe John doesn't want to know.  
Maybe John does know. 

~+~  
“An apple?” he asks. 

“You need to keep your strength up,” Selina answers. He doesn't ask where she got it from or what she had to do/did to get it. “Eat it.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Eat it. I want to watch you eat it,” she answers. 

“Kinky.”

She gives him a look. “Don't think I don't know you're giving all the fresh food away to the brats at the orphanage. Eat it.”

He wants to tell her she can't make him do shit, but the truth is, the kids at the orphanage are getting their rations and he doesn't. Because he is the enemy, he is a fugitive and an outlaw. An apple is a really freaking rare treat these days. So he eats it and she watches and waits and then she just disappears to god only knows where.  
John doesn't ask, because it's safer for them if he doesn't know. Everyone and their mother know about Kyle – at least it seems that way – and John doesn't want to be on the bad guy's radar. He has no idea how in hell he had managed to stay anonymous so far, but it's a blessing. 

~+~  
There are nights when he really doesn't know why he's still alive, why he's still fighting. It all seems so desperately final. Bane wins, the bomb explodes. The Batman? He doesn't know. But most likely he's dead.  
Kyle didn't say much about what happened with Wayne. John imagines that it wasn't pretty. He is sure she knows Batman is Wayne, and Wayne is Batman, but he didn't ask her that either. He doesn't ask a lot of questions that maybe should be asked, but there is no time. He and Gordon and the handful of good people out there, they're doing their best, but it just doesn't seem to be enough.  
He knows he can't fail.  
But he doesn't know how he can win. 

 

**~two~**  
You cared, he wants to say. You cared for him and now that he's gone, now you think you should do right by him in some way and care for me. John doesn't know if he likes this, but there is so little humanity left in the city. She isn't an ally of the resistance, or whatever they are. She is something else. No one suspects her, except in a way where everyone suspects her of ulterior motives, because that is who she is. It works for her. Or she makes it work.  
In the real world they would be staying on different sides of the line. Not only because he is a cop and she is a criminal, but also because John knows she wants Wayne for herself. Knows that he wants Wayne for himself too. There aren't many people who know Wayne like John does, like she does. This means something. John doesn't ask what. There is no point now.  
Maybe later. If he comes back.  
'I'm not sure' isn't 'yes'.  
Wayne might still be alive. 

~+~  
John is big on hope and faith, but he is a burned child too. He knows that if something needs to be done, he has to do it himself. He won't be sitting and waiting for Batman to come back or not come back. He will do what has to be done to find the bomb and then, well. He'll see. 

“I'm looking,” she says, throwing him an orange. 

“Thanks,” he replies, because he is grateful that she isn't ratting him out, that she is bringing him food, that she's here, because she is the only person who understands. 

“People don't trust me,” she answers shrugging. 

He smiles. “They shouldn't.” He starts to peel the orange, not looking at her. His fingers are so freaking cold, it's hard work.

She smiles back. It looks sharp. “No, they shouldn't and still, here you are.” 

“Because you care,” he answers and doesn't say: because you're feeling guilty. “I know you want this to be over, so you can pack your stuff and be out of here,” he says instead. 

“As plans go, I think it's a good one,” she answers.  
He hands her a slice of the orange, juice dripping, she gives him a look, but takes it anyway. Her fingers are warm. He wonders where she's staying and with whom?  
He doesn't ask. 

~+~  
He cuts the apple in two and hands her a half. She gives him a look, but takes it anyway. It's a thing they're doing. She pretends it's no big deal and John pretends he doesn't think about the smell of her skin or her breath against his ear. 

“Do you think he made it?” John asks. 

“I don't even know if Bane didn't kill him right there, John,” she answers. 

“He wouldn't. It would be too easy. This is personal for Bane. No clue why, but I just know.” 

“Gut feeling?” 

He shrugs. “Yeah, it's a thing cops have.” 

She laughs, and it feels displaced here in the cold of an abandoned warehouse. “If they had, John, they wouldn't be trapped right now and the city wouldn't be run by Bane.” 

It's not true; the city would probably still be run by Bane. But he can't argue with the rest. They should've known it was a trap. On the other hand, this whole thing is so unimaginable. No one ever saw it coming. Not even Kyle. And she was in the centre of it. He could point that out, but he tries not to be a dick and she does bring him food. 

“He came back before.” 

She nods. “He did.” 

 

**~three~**  
John can't really pinpoint when it started to be more than just random visits and throwing fruit at his chest.  
He doesn't care about the exact date either. She is here and she is human and warm and, to some point, on his side. Everyone who is against Bane isn't automatically on his side, but she has reasons and he has his and when it comes down to it their reasons are the same and it's really only one: Wayne.  
She misses him, cares for him, hopes he's still alive. He does the same. All competition is gone as far as he is concerned. 

~+~  
John didn't have a plan for this, he didn't have a plan for seducing Wayne either. He was just- Wayne was a huge part of his life. His subconscious was a bitch like that. He is pretty sure he is a cop because Wayne is Batman. It's messed up, but it's not like John isn't aware of it. 

“I didn't know until Bane tore off the mask,” she says. Her mouth is hot against his chilled skin. “I wish he hadn't-”  
He turns and shuts her up with a too hard kiss, but she doesn't seem to mind. When she gets like this, this is the best way to make sure the desperation stays inside and she would probably kill him if he was to go all mushy on her. Her nails are digging too sharply into his flesh, but it's a small price for feeling human and if he's honest here for a second: she keeps his desperation at bay too.  
They are clutching at each other like two people on open sea, surrounded by sharks.  
They are the only two people who know, besides Alfred (and he isn't here) and Bane. They are the only two people who care in equal parts about Wayne and the Batman.  
When he looks into her eyes when they're so close, he is pretty sure he sees what she is seeing.  
Longing and despair, kept at bay with tooth and nail. 

~+~  
John knows all about her little adventures with random kids, because kids like John and tell him everything when he has a few minutes to spare and you can't be an outlaw vigilante every minute of every day.  
Most people don't take children seriously, but they are John's eyes and ears, because he can't be everywhere, but they can. 

He doesn't want them to do anything dangerous and they are clever enough not to get into trouble. Mostly.  
John doesn't call her on her tender heart under that steel hard shell. It wouldn't do him any good. 

 

**~four~**  
John wonders sometimes what they will do once Wayne comes back, (John is still hoping, it's at times the only thing that keeps him going).  
He has no illusions. He could never compete with the Batman or Wayne. He isn't a vigilante, he isn't a rich guy with a mansion. He wonders if these things still matter to her. Because sometimes he catches her looking at him. And it's a similar look he saw on his own face when he was thinking about Wayne. 

~+~  
There is no use in denying, that between her throwing him the first apple and now, things have changed.  
John didn't want to care about her, but Wayne did, so he thought he should. He knows she didn't want to care about him either, but then again: Wayne did and so she thought she should.  
But that isn't what is holding them together now.  
John isn't sure what it is that is holding them together. Misery, maybe. Because misery likes company. And they are the only people who aren't only devastated over the whole state of the city and the occupation. There are other things. Darker things.  
When he looks at her putting her clothes back on, or straightening them out because it was too cold to take them off all the way, he wonders. 

“You're staring,” she says not looking at him. 

“I am,” he answers, because he is and he has no idea what else to say.  
She turns to look at him. He's sure in another situation she would have snapped at him, or laughed in his face or something. She is way out of his league, but then Wayne is too, was too, something. That didn't stop John marching up to Wayne Manor and knocking on the door, to demand that Batman comes back.  
And that's what he gets for it. To some point this is his fault too. Maybe she feels the same. 

~+~  
Sometimes when she lingers a bit, like she doesn't want to go back to wherever she is staying, he wants to ask her what the hell she is doing to help the city. But then the answer is pretty fucking obvious.  
Him.  
She's doing what she can to keep him sane and well feed and generally being able to get shit done with Gordon. She will probably never get credit for that – nor will she want to.  
He is just glad she's keeping it together, that she is looking out for the kids, his kids, and being there when he needs someone who gets what the hell is going on with him on a very personal (maybe too personal) level.  
Sometimes it's enough to know that someone else knows too and cares and hurts for the same reason.  
It's fucked up, but still. That is what drew John to Wayne. He looked at Wayne and knew and when he looks at her now, he knows too. 

 

**~five~**  
The first thing John feels is relief. There are a lot of reasons for that.  
One: he isn't going to die here, because he has been stupid and tried to free the cops on his own – and got someone killed in the process.  
Two: Batman is back. Which means Wayne isn't dead, which means the city still has a chance.  
Three: There is still hope, hope John nearly gave up.  
If he had more time to think about it all, he would ask how the hell Batman came back. Why only now? Where the hell he had been? But they don't have time.  
That he's alive is enough for now.  
John isn't even going to speculate for whom Batman came back – the answer to that is clear: Gotham.  
For whom Wayne came back. The answer to that isn't so clear at all. He wishes they had more time. But they don't. There never seems to be a good time to just get it out there.  
To try and build something.  
The only thing they are doing is picking up the pieces and rebuilding. 

~+~  
When the Bat goes up in a flash of light, John is watching it happening from a bridge full of frightened kids.  
Once more relief swaps over him. He is alive, the kids are alright and the city is going to make it. Is going to rebuild.  
And John lost the only other person who gets the anger eating at him. He lost the only other person he cared about so strongly it hurt.  
And with losing Batman, with losing Wayne, John knows he's losing Kyle too.  
There is nothing left for her here. She did what she could and it wasn't enough.  
John doesn't even know where she is now. 

~+~  
To say John is surprised to see her would be the understatement of the century. She's leaning against the wall of the abandoned warehouse he was living in for months, they were sharing desperation and heat in. Waiting. 

“I knew you would come back here, you're just that type of guy,” she says. There is a small smile playing around her lips. He wonders if she remembers too. Two lost children, Hänsel and Gretel, surrounded by wolves. 

“I didn't think you would.” 

She shrugs. They both know she isn't overly sentimental. That's not her style. And still, John thinks. She's here. She wanted to say goodbye or something. A version of goodbye she could live with. He could live with.  
“I'm leaving,” she says. There is something in her voice that makes John's alarm bells ring. He looks at her hard and she looks back. Doesn't blink. 

“With him,” he says, softly. It's really just a whisper. Of course, he thinks, of course, Wayne is smart. He came back from death once, twice. Third time's the charm.  
She doesn't confirm it or deny it, but he knows. “If, if you're right” she says, “I would never tell him.”

And that, John thinks, implies a world of things. Never tell him that she hooked up with John? That they shared something so pure that other people couldn't even begin to understand it? That John is in fucking love with Batman, and has always been? That she came here to say goodbye? To tell him, to let him know Wayne is alive and chose her? She chose Wayne over him, but then he knew that she would – no competition, really. 

“I wouldn't tell him either,” John says. 

She smiles at him, sharp and amused. “Goodbye John.” 

“Goodbye Selina,” John answers.  
Maybe John should leave too, but who would pick up the pieces then?


End file.
